


Five Times Dean Said Those Three Little Words

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-15
Updated: 2008-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: A lifetime of loving one guy.





	

5 years

Dean didn't like the new place they were living in. He wanted to go back to stay with Uncle Mike and Auntie Kate, where the beds were softer, and it didn't smell like stale smoke, and the bathroom wasn't a horrible yellow colour.

He didn't like the way Daddy spent all his time reading now, or taking them on long drives where Dean wasn't allowed to get out of the car, not even when they stopped at someone's house and Daddy went to talk to them.

Sammy didn't like it either, and he cried more now. Dean couldn't get him to stop, even when he let him hold Cocoa. Dean watched him wail for a while, patting his hand and hoping he'd stop, then went to find Daddy.

Daddy was in the kitchen, staring at something on the table. Dean bit his lip and went further into the room, close enough to hold onto Daddy's pants. Daddy looked down at him, then sighed and picked him up, settling on his lap.

"Sammy'll stop crying soon," he said tiredly. "He's just teething."

Dean could see what Daddy had been staring at on the table now, and his eyes widened. It was a gun; heavier, blacker and uglier than the ones on TV. He reached out a hand to touch it, unable to stop himself.

Daddy grabbed his hand before he made it, and pulled it back in towards Dean's body, holding him close. "You're not allowed to touch it, okay Dean? Guns are for adults only. You have to promise you'll never touch it unless I say you can."

Dean nodded, but he couldn't take his eyes off the gun. It looked out of place on the kitchen table, next to the drawing Dean had done earlier of Daddy's car.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," said Daddy, "I know this is all very different to how things were before." Dean turned his face into Daddy's shirt, and let the familiar smell of it make him feel safe. Daddy rubbed his hand through Dean's hair. "It's gonna be okay," he said. "Something bad happened to Mommy - a bad monster hurt her, but I'm not going to let that happen to you or Sammy, okay, Deano?"

A monster? Mrs Densley had said that monsters weren't real. He pulled his head away and looked up at Daddy's face to see if he was joking, but Daddy was looking at the gun again. He tucked his head back under Daddy's arm, and tried to cuddle closer to him. Daddy wrapped his arms tighter around him and just held him close for a long time.

That night, after Daddy had put him to bed, Dean thought about what Daddy had said about monsters. He didn't want Daddy to be hurt like Mommy had been, but Daddy had the gun now. He'd be able to kill the monsters if they tried to hurt him.

Sammy, though, Sammy was so small, and he couldn't do everything that Dean could, because he was too little. If the monsters came for him, he wouldn't be able to do anything.

Dean clutched his duvet tightly for a moment, then took a deep breath and crawled out from under the warm safety of it. He walked as quietly as he could across to Sammy's cot, and pulled himself up into it. He wrapped himself around Sammy's sleeping body, and whispered in his ear. "I love you, Sammy. If the monsters come, I'll fight them off for you."

Sammy made a sleepy little baby noise, and curled his fist into Dean's chest.

 

 

19 years

It took Dean only ten minutes to work out exactly why Dad had looked so gleeful when Dean had said he'd teach Sam how to drive, and another ten for Dean to decide that this was probably the worst mistake he'd ever made, including going home with that chick in Nebraska who was actually a man.

"Brakes, Sam! You need to use the brakes! And use the damn clutch when you shift gear!"

In comparison, it took him three days to fix all the damage Sam did when he hit the lamp post, and when he came out of the garage at the end of the third day, rubbing the oil off his hands with a cloth, to find Sam making dinner and trying to look contrite, he only just managed to stop himself from beating him up.

"Sam," he gritted out from between clenched teeth, "I love you, but if you ever, ever hurt my car like that again, I'm gonna rip your spine out through your stomach."

Sam winced, then nodded. Dean gave him one last glare to make sure his message had got across, then went to have a shower.

 

 

28 years

It wasn't the first time they'd had sex, it wasn't even the second, but it was the first time without guilt saturating it and both of them slightly horrified by the taboo they were breaking. It was the first time it wasn't a furious, violent fuck fuelled by adrenaline and a desperate need to purge themselves of the want as fast as possible.

But they'd both finally given up with caring what the rest of the world thought of this, and had had hours tonight to take their time. Dean had got to explore all the ways that he could make Sam gasp out his name, and all the places that caused Sam to lost control. He'd discovered that biting along Sam's collarbone made him shudder, and that licking along his hip made him gasp, and that the noise he made - half groan, half plea - when Dean sank inside him for the first time was almost enough to make Dean come on its own.

And now they were curled up in the same bed together for the first time, Sam's eyes already shut and his breathing evening out. It all felt a little too lovey-dovey for Dean, arms wrapped round each other, and bodies pressed close enough that he could feel every tiny movement Sam made, but he didn't really have the energy to move, and, well, Sam seemed to like it. He guessed he could let it go for one night.

It wasn't until Sam was fast asleep that he admitted in a tiny corner of himself that maybe he liked it as well. He smoothed his hand over Sam's chest, and watched his eyes flicker behind their lids.

"It's disturbing how much I love you," he whispered, and the words seemed shockingly loud in the dark of the motel room. He internally snorted at himself for overdone sentimentality, and resolutely shut his eyes.

 

 

29 years

Dean had long been of the opinion that it wasn't a coincidence that witch rhymed with bitch, and this last case had only gone to prove him right.

They'd been tracking the coven for a week, trying to work out just which of the moms of the Oakton Little League were responsible for the boils that had taken to appearing on the opposing teams' star players right before a game, and which of the ones responsible was most likely to be possessed with whichever demon was giving them their powers.

However, Dean's brilliant plan of pretending to be a talent scout in order to gain information back-fired badly when the head of the coven, Tricia Ramsey, found out he was lying and decided to punish him with a truth spell.

By the time he'd got back to the motel where he was meeting Sam, he'd confused two innocent parents with the truth about the witches when they'd asked him what he was doing at the game, and made a complete idiot of himself at a gas station when the clerk asked him if he wanted anything else.

His mood didn't improve when Sam spent ten minutes laughing after Dean told him, and it plunged to new depths when Sam started asking him questions.

"Did you really sleep with Maria Ginetta when you were 14, or was that just bullshit? Come to that, did you sleep with Tracy Harcourt while I was going out with her? And what exactly did happen last month when you came back from that bar all covered in bruises?"

Dean gritted his teeth, but the answers came out anyway. "No, yes, and a jerk who'd seen us kissing earlier that day decided he hated fags, got some of his mates together and jumped me."

Sam opened his mouth to say something else - ask for more embarrassing secrets no doubt - but Dean beat him to it. "You ask me any more questions, take advantage of this, and I'll," his voice disappeared for a moment, and he had to search his mind for a threat he could make that he'd actually follow through on, "I'll make you really fucking regret it," he finished.

Sam shut his mouth with a snap. "Fine," he said after a moment. "We need to find the coven, then, get the demon exorcised. Once it's in Hell, the spell should be over."

It took them the rest of the day to track down the demon. To his credit, Sam managed to remember not to ask Dean any questions for most of it, only slipping up a couple of times.

"Why is it you never let me drive anyway?" he sulked as they left the Pattersons' house after working out that Geraldine Patterson was definitely not possessed, although she might be slightly insane. Sam had asked for the keys for the short drive over to find out if Harriet Brown was the demon, and Dean had just laughed at him.

"Because my car's all I've got, and I hate not being in control of her," he said instantly, then winced.

Sam blinked at him, then shook his head. "You have some serious issues."

Dean sucked in a breath and concentrated on the road. "I know," he muttered. Sam pretended not to have heard.

It turned out that Harriet Brown was the one being possessed, and there was a brief fight in the hallway of her house. The demon threw Sam against a wall, and Dean chucked his entire bottle of holy water in her face, then followed it up with a punch that knocked her out, not caring about Harriet's chances of getting out of this with an unbroken nose.

"Sam, you okay?" he asked, rushing over to help him up.

"I'm fine," said Sam, gingerly pulling himself up.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "You've got to stop getting hurt," he said. "I love you way too much to be able to watch it." Then he was the one wincing and hurriedly turning away while Sam stared at him with wide eyes. "Uh, let's get this bitch exorcised," he said, clearing his throat and hoping like hell that Sam wouldn't say anything.

"Yeah," agreed Sam after a moment of silence, but he gently squeezed Dean's shoulder as he went past him to get their gear.

 

 

30 years

Another day of being a Winchester and another apocalypse to prevent. This one, though, came with a very specific expiry date of midnight on Friday the thirteenth, because apparently even demons have a sense of humour. Sam and Dean had spent the last two days running around, desperately trying to take out enough of the key players so that the whole thing fell through, and keeping a very careful eye on the time.

At ten o'clock on the morning of the thirteenth, they were getting out of the Impala outside a warehouse that they were ninety percent sure contained one of the demons' altars. Dean glanced at his watch long enough to watch the second hand flick around the last few seconds to the hour, then grabbed Sam, pushed him up against the car, and kissed him as hard as he could.

When he pulled back, Sam looked confused, and more than a little dishevelled. Dean fixed him with his most panicked look, and said, "Sam, Sam, I love you! But we only have fourteen hours to save the Earth!"

Sam stared at him in shock for a very long moment, then smacked him hard round the back of the head.


End file.
